It should be easy for a man who’s strong to say he’s sorry or admit when he’s wrong.
Hope you don’t think this is Billy Joel unplugged. I’m a piano player. I’m already unplugged.
If I need a cause for celebration, Or a comfort I can use to ease my mind, I rely on my imagination, And I dream of an imaginary time.
I really wish I was less of a thinking man and more of a fool not afraid of rejection.
As human beings, we need to know that we are not alone, that we are not crazy or completely out of our minds, that there are other people out there who feel as we do, live as we do, love as we do, who are like us.
You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes, but they’re the only things that you can truly call your own.
Have you listened to the radio lately? Have you heard the canned, frozen and processed product being dished up to the world as American popular music today?
I did write a letter to the archdiocese who’d banned the song, Only the Good Die Young, asking them to ban my next record.
In a way, we are magicians. We are alchemists, sorcerers and wizards. We are a very strange bunch. But there is great fun in being a wizard.
I don’t care what consequence it brings, I have been a fool for lesser things.
Most people are satisfied with the junk food being sold as music.
When I look at great works of art or listen to inspired music, I sense intimate portraits of the specific times in which they were created.
If you could only hear what I dream.
I may be an antique like the Stones, but antiques are valuable.
Though you can see when you’re wrong, you know you can’t always see when you’re right.
Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight, and make sure that all her dreams are sweet? Said now, would ya guide her on the roads, and make them softer for her feet? Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight, and make sure that she’s gonna be alright, until she’s home and here with me.
You may never understand How the stranger is inspired For he is not always evil, And he is not always wrong.
Don’t be afraid to try again everyone goes south every now and then.
We’re only human, we’re supposed to make mistakes.
We all end in the ocean. We all start in the streams. We’re all carried along, by the river of dreams.